


Sam's tooth

by TheIceQueen



Series: Sam's blue book [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Sam Winchester, Blood, Dentist Bobby, Eyepatch, Fear, Held Down, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly hurt, Pain, Protective Dean Winchester, Secrets, Toothache, Vomiting, not much comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 23:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12617896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIceQueen/pseuds/TheIceQueen
Summary: After a visit with an eye-specialist, have left Dean with an eyepatch and Sam with a cracked tooth, they seek help at Bobby's.





	Sam's tooth

**Author's Note:**

> Second part of Line of Sight.  
> If you want to be left in the dark about the events leading up to this (just as Bobby), you don't have to read >Line of Sight<

”You two are a sight for sore eyes.”

“Nice one, Bobby.” Dean took the flask of holy-water from Bobby’s hand, chugged half of it, handed it to Sam and pushed his way passed the elder hunter and in to the living room.

“No pun intended.” Bobby’s investigative eyes followed Dean and then he turned to Sam. He was hesitative about the water, Bobby waited. He would be hesitative himself with that kind of swelling on the jaw, it looked like it was from a tooth gone really bad. There was a bit of blood in the corner of Sam’s mouth too, so it had to be an open injury.

Sam filled his mouth with the water and obviously tried to guide it away from the one side. Judging from the pained grimace on his face, he was not quite succeeding. He gave the bottle to Bobby with a _hi_ , and followed Dean inside.

“We figured you could help with a bad tooth.” Dean was sitting behind the desk with his feet up. The black eyepatch made him look older than he was, and the glass of whiskey already in his hand wasn’t helping.

“What happened to the two of you?” He looked from one brother to the other. Sam wasn’t talking, as a matter of fact he looked small and maybe a pit pale. Bobby didn’t blame him, pulling out a tooth was nasty business, he’d had to do it to John once and tears were running down his face when they were done. Dean had been there. Maybe that’s why he was downplaying this; because he’d seen that, and he knew what Sam was about to go through.

Dean just shook his head. “A monster, a bar… you know, life happened.”

He was not getting anything more of the story now. Bobby pulled up a wooden chair. “Sit. Let’s have a look.”

Sam sat down still not talking. His hands grabbed the armrests as Bobby tilted his head back. Sam opened his mouth and let Bobby shine a flashlight in there. Sam’s breathing became strained, it must have hurt his jaw to open this wide. The tooth was bleeding, it looked like it was cracked in two, but he couldn’t be sure it was all the way down. Either way, it had to come out.

“That’s a nasty one. What the hell hit you?”

Sam gathered himself but still didn’t say a word, he looked at Dean.

Dean sighed. “A six foot one, white guy.”

Bobby turned towards Dean. “You did this? You punched Sam, so his tooth cracked in two?”

He knew the brothers were known to fight occasionally, but to throw punches like this was more than just getting a point across.

“Yeah. I did. Can you fix him, so we can get on our way and kick some monster-ass instead?”

Dean showing up with an eyepatch, not telling some cool story about how he got injured. Sam showing up with a tooth cracked, by Dean, not saying anything. There was definitely a story there, but right now he needed to get that tooth out before it got infected or Sam swallowed anymore blood. The boy had to be nauseous by know.

“Yeah, just let me find some stuff. Here spit in this.” Bobby handed Sam a trashcan. “Don’t swallow any more, it will make you sick.”

Bobby found what he needed and came to Sam with a plier. “Do you want a drink first?”

He looked as he was about to throw up. Sam shook his head and put the trashcan on the floor between his feet.

“You’ll have to after anyway. To clean the wound.” Bobby would have liked Sam to be a bit out of it for this, but it didn’t look as the boy was going along with the idea. Sam had to be the judge himself, after all, he was the one who knew how much blood was splashing around inside his stomach at this point.

Sam looked up and opened his mouth, indicating that this was it. No drink first. Bobby grabbed his shoulder with his free hand and put the plier in Sam’s mouth. As soon as it touched the tooth, Sam recoiled. His hand’s tightened around the armrests and his head bent as far backwards as possible, hitting the backrest of the chair.

Bobby withdrew the plier. “Dean, we might need an extra set of hands here.”

Dean was already up. He knocked over a pile of books on the way over. Bobby guessed that the eyepatch was a new thing. Dean had clearly not adjusted to it yet.

“Stand behind Sam and hold his head steady.”

Dean did as told. Sam was panting, getting ready for take two. Bobby gave him a second to gather himself, so he wouldn’t throw up as soon as he opened his mouth. When Sam nodded, he grabbed the plier again.

“Sorry. Sam.” Bobby was truly sorry. If it had hurt like that, only touching the tooth, it would be excruciating when he would get a hold on it, not to mention the pulling and twisting that would follow.

Sam closed his eyes and swallowed some more blood before he opened his mouth. Bobby decided to be as quick as possible, it wasn’t possible to be gently anyway. He put the plier around the tooth and squeezed tight. Sam grunted and drew his head back, but Dean held him steady enough, so Bobby could work.

A few seconds of grunting and moaning went by and it happened. Bobby felt it. Hell, they must have felt it all three of them. The crack. Bobby pulled out the pliers and Sam bent over the trashcan. The boy was shaking and convulsing while emptying his stomach. Dean held him on the chair and rubbed his back.

“My turn to hold _your_ puking ass over a bucket.” Dean smiled, and Bobby could’ve sworn that Sam almost did too.

“And the plot, thickness…” Bobby caught eye-contact with Dean for a second. A second was all he needed to know, that this was one of the times where he would never get the whole story.

Sam was done puking and Dean pushed him back to sit upright. “Good thing that’s over, little brother.”

Sam looked Dean in his eyes and shook his head, then he looked at Bobby, who was still holding the plier. Dean’s eyes followed.

“Sorry boys, it’s only like a third of it.” Sam already knew he wasn’t done, but the message looked like it had hit Dean in the gut.

“What do you mean? It’s not out?”

“The tooth was cracked almost to the root. Were just lucky it didn’t shatter completely.” Bobby discarded the extracted part in the trashcan and rinsed the plier under the faucet.

Sam was collecting himself, taking deep controlled breaths and sitting straight op in the chair. Dean looked more confused and reluctant to try again, when Bobby approached his brother for the third time.

“Ready?” Sam nodded, but he looked even more pale than when he’d entered the house. “Hold his head.”

Dean hesitated but Sam leaned back and nodded quick to let him know that it was okay, and he was ready.

This time took longer. Sam moaned and if his mouth wasn’t filled with metal and blood he would have screamed, instead it came out as high-pitched grunts. He clutched the armrests and pulled his head back every time he had the opportunity. Tears were running fast from both eyes now. Bobby hated to do this, he hated the sound of tooth loosening and the feeling of bone against bone, spreading through the plier and up through his hand. Most of all he hated that, what he was hearing and feeling, Sam had to feel, times a hundred in his head, in addition to the pain. Sam’s one hand suddenly grabbed onto Dean’s forearm. His eyes were filled with fear.

“Stop Bobby, he’s suffocating!”

“I got it! Hold on Sam.” Bobby felt the tooth coming lose. It was a matter of seconds now. He didn’t want to take a break and then make Sam start over again. This had to be over _now_.

Bobby’s hand and the pliers twisted almost a full round. Sam slid down in the chair from the added pain and Dean almost lost the grip on him. Bobby pulled the tooth out and threw it in the bucket before Sam bended over and spat in it.

Sam sat there for a while, panting and spitting, but not throwing up. Bobby guessed he’d gotten rid of all the blood earlier. Dean squatted down next to him and just sat there for a while, rubbing his back.

When Sam sat up, Bobby handed him a glass of whiskey. “It should have been mouthwash, but I’m all out.”

Sam conjured up a smile and swirled the liquid around his mouth before spitting it in the trashcan.

“You drink that stuff, you know? It’s not a fine vinery, where you spit it out.” Dean stood up and took his own glass.

“It tass-ted lide bloodd”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Okay Sammy.”

“Here, let me put this on.” Bobby took a hold of Sam’s jaw before he could react himself and put a cotton ball in where the tooth had left a hole. Sam yelped under the touch and sent him a surprised and disapproving look.

“Sorry Sam.” Bobby knew he lacked bedside manner, but he often needed to get the job done quick and without too much fuss. He went to the freezer and found some ice and wrapped it in a towel. “Here put this on your jaw or no one will understand you in the morning.”

Sam took the ice and moved to the couch. It didn’t take long before he was asleep. Bobby made sure the ice was still on his jaw, it wasn’t just speaking that could be a problem; if the swelling kept increasing it could give Sam problems breathing.

Dean was at the desk again. He looked even more tired than Sam. What the hell had these boys been up to? “Are you okay? The eye… what?”

“It’ll be fine, we had someone look at it already… You know about Sam’s book. It’s getting more names.” Dean emptied his glass and stood up. Bobby was almost expecting him to fall over from exhaustion as he stood there swaying for a moment. “I’ll get some shut eye too.”

Dean stopped in the doorway. “He’ll be okay, right?”

“Sure. I’ll keep an eye on him tonight, to make sure he doesn’t swallow that cotton ball.”

“Thanks Bobby.”

“Don’t mention it. Just get some sleep, you look like a pirate who just finished eight bottles of rum.”

Dean nodded to Bobby, excepting the statement as truth and went up the stairs. Bobby stayed up the night and changed the ice and the cotton ball a few times. Sam was so tired, Bobby didn’t think he even noticed most of it.

The next morning the boys left without further explanation. Bobby had expected nothing else, he had come to accept that sometimes there are things he’s not a part of. He was happy to help, and the boys certainly showed their appreciation. Mostly Sam, even though he kept saying _Dank you._ It left Dean with a smile every time, so Bobby was sure that the boys were okay.


End file.
